


The Treatment

by BeatriceImpresaria



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Science Fiction, Subliminal messaging of sorts, Weight Gain, wg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23711785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatriceImpresaria/pseuds/BeatriceImpresaria
Summary: In the labs of the Government, the scientific administration of Dr. Cornelius has made significant progress to improve a process known as the Treatment. Few know of its means, and even fewer know of the effects that it has on the human body. To those inside who know, it is the pride and joy of the government; its outcomes help produce happier people, but the physical effects leave the population bewildered. On the inside, however, the influence of the Chairman greatly impact the day to day runnings of the Treatment's development, and there are sinister effects left behind by those who go against the government's wishes...
Kudos: 8





	The Treatment

Contains: Weight Gain (to very high levels later on), Subliminal Messaging/Hypnosis, evident government corruption, blatant disregard of actual science

"Now, go! Minster Cornelius is away at a meeting, but he won’t be gone for very long! What you know about this place needs to be heard. Your position is too important; the world can’t lose you. Go, go!” A female scientist with grey-streaked hair shouted as she lifted Cathy from the gel-filled tube where she had been unconscious for who knows how long. She didn’t even have time to give thanks to this nameless figure who had, for some reason, saved her from a fate that would likely be worse than death for someone like her. She didn’t think to pace her steps; any misstep, any drop in speed, could be the difference between freedom and incarceration. Even though she was naked, the warm atmosphere of the laboratory had made her feel comfortable enough as she ventured forth towards sweet freedom and revealing the truth about this place.

Alarms started ringing in the halls, a deafening blare that echoed down the damp halls. As one of the prison’s most important inmates, with connections to multiple media companies and her status as CEO of Newhart News Corp, Cathy Newhart knew that she was of vital importance to keeping the stream of news flowing throughout the country. Throughout her surprisingly short career, she had been a very careful woman, amassing many friends in the system who diversified and became successful in their own right. The government was right to fear her; she controlled the tone of the news as well as its content. And, as it seemed, she had control of some of its employees as well. Maybe, just maybe, that scientist was one of her inside people, incessantly spying for her cause. The conspiracy about the reappearance of these corpulent individuals had dominated other stations for months now, but Cathy wasn’t much concerned with that. She knew she had had dirt on their imprisonment of political opponents, and she had finally been ready, after months of preparation, to print it out for the world to see.

Her denouncement of the Government was bold; it was fresh, and it was popular with the people. Her hard-hitting journalism sold like hotcakes, and her face was on every non-government news station! It was wonderful, and they all knew the unpolished truth about Phineas Spencer. About Roger Cornelius. About Gina Redick. About all of the current administration and the two that preceded it, and their work brainwashing civilians. The Government went into hysterics trying to falsify her story, calling it utter libel, but the courts would almost certainly rule in her favor if she had been able to go to court about it before the unfortunate inevitability occurred. The one thing she had never planned for in her scheming, a fatal mistake unbecoming of her, really.

The arrest of Cathy Newhart was big news in itself and her station would certainly be blaming the government for her disappearance, and rightly so. She had been a critic for a while in subtle ways, and the government had always been itching for an excuse to put her behind bars. Such a star could not be silenced. With everything that was happening, her arrest only added to the narrative that supported her side and, with a little luck, could bring down this sickening government. Still, nothing could prepare her for what she was going to see next. For all the news coverage it would provide, this made her sick to her stomach. Despite her willingness to bring anything to the light of day, Cathy Newhart couldn’t stand for the use of even the most anonymous of individuals in such a… grotesque manner. Even with her denouncement of the government’s corruption, the CEO thought they would at least respect the human rights of its citizens.

As it seemed, however, she had another grievance to bring to light. Giant, gel-filled tanks lined the hallways. Cathy couldn’t tell who was in it; the containers that held them were opaque and showed little but an outline, even to the point that it was hard to discern whether they were male or female. Whatever they were, all were hooked up to gigantic machines that, on the outside, had a screen that registered their vital signs and monitored their bodily functions. TVs hooked up to the ceilings of the room seemed to replicate the same message over and over again. She couldn’t quite make it out; the messages were playing at different times, creating this loud droning that made her feel sick. It hummed throughout her body, the sound waves vibrating in her chest and disorienting her. What was more, she felt a throbbing pain in the back of her head. 

Altogether, it was difficult for her to think about much. While it was becoming harder and harder to run, she persevered to where the messages seemed to decrease in frequency and, after a few minutes of traversing this building that seemed to never end, finally ceased entirely.

At the back of the hallway, where she was, the silhouettes had looked quite average in size. They might have had a touch of pudge on them or, in the case of a few individuals, were naturally curvy but, as she ran down the hall and turned a corner, she couldn’t help but notice that they were growing fatter and fatter. Around the bend, the silhouettes were somewhat chubby, like someone who had gotten out of shape. Cathy recoiled in disgust at what they were doing. She would never let anyone do that to her; she was too proud of herself, but she also realized that she would have, very likely, joined them had she not been broken free by some proud compatriot. She shuddered to think how she would look fatter, and even pondered what her plush curves would look like: her… wonderful belly; her gigantic tits; her thick, padded ass…

What? Cathy stopped to catch her breath and take stock of her surroundings. She looked down for a moment to catch her breath and stretched her arms to try and let out any fatigue they had accumulated. While the messages were behind her, the obscenely corpulent forms—not to mention guards who wanted to make her one of them—were still in front of her. To her left was a belly-heavy specimen. Their form’s long, thick hair floated awkwardly in the fluid that they were contained in, and tubes were injected into their gargantuan form. The only movement she could see from them was the automatic movement of their jowls with the pumping of what seemed to be a feeding tube coming from below and the slow up-and-down bobbing that befitted someone floating in liquid. To her right was… a hypnotic sight. A figure that was all tits and ass; their belly was nearly completely covered by all of the fat meat that rested on their broad chest. Their thighs were like tree-trunks to support a rear that was large enough to be seen from the front and their arms were themselves plumped up to nearly twice the width of the rest of their chubby arms. As they faced the front, Cathy could get an eyeful of just how wide their body was. This form was definitely a female, but the sheer size should have put her off, made her want to run away even more. Instead, she wanted to break that glass and press herself into those luscious curves or, even better, take her place and become bigger… and bigger…

Cathy slapped herself to return herself to reality. The door shouldn’t be too far away; the path was surprisingly straightforward as if she was destined to escape. Still, whatever was in that tube that was attached to their mouth had done magnificent work in filling her out to what she was now, and Cathy thought for just a moment how much bigger that body could get under the right treatment and care. She thought how big she could get under the care of whoever ran the facility. A part of her was beckoning her body to turn around and jump back into that cool, welcoming gel that held her afloat in the tank. The pain that constantly nagged at her neck and, now, her spine, only added to these thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, she would feel more comfortable. Only her overwhelming duty to the people kept her from turning back around, and she gritted her teeth and continued to run.

She prided herself on remembering one of the paths out of this place; hopefully, she would be able to steal one of the vehicles and make a daring dash for safety. Luckily, she hadn’t even run into a single guard, a miracle considering the high-security detail she had seen coming in. This place should have been crawling with guards and scientists, and she could count herself lucky that she had not run into any of them. Perhaps it was in the dead of night, or during a shift change… either way, she didn’t question her impeccable luck so far. 

As she neared one of the exits, she started seeing empty tubes. Cathy wondered what became of them… or even how fat they were. Judging by the utterly absurd size that some of the largest exhibited, she could only dream, with morbid curiosity, as to what limits these bodies hit before their removal and who would replace them. Her thoughts were flooded with ideas such as these, nearly overwhelming any thought of escape. Miss Newhart, if she didn’t keep moving, would just become another one of those nameless forms, stuck in a tube, stuffed to some rotund form and left to an unknown fate. She almost relished in these thoughts, barely kept in reality as she thought of her body ballooning in all directions. I hope my breasts take most of the weight… She had to slap herself again. The fate of her readership was at stake here.

Rounding another corner, she finally saw the exit she was looking for… but also a hoard of guards, many of whom were rotund themselves, much to her… delight? Cathy weighed her options, knowing that it was a low chance of her actually getting out. Part of her recoiled in horror to think that her escape would be a failure, but a small part of her reveled in being handled by the handsome guards and hooked up just like all those other extras in her story. No! She couldn’t! Cathy Newhart wasn’t going to let herself fall to that debauchery; she was above that, and she needed to get her story out to the public. It was imperative that they know about what the government is doing and soon; she couldn’t let any more innocent people fall to the government’s corrupt practices.

Suddenly, it felt like she was on top of the world. The pain in the back of her neck seemed to fade without warning and the fatigue she felt dissipated. She felt on top of the world! Cathy charged around the corner, somehow deftly dodging any of the shots that were fired at her. Picking a particularly large woman to take down first, she rammed her body into the guard, somehow knocking her off her feet and grabbing her rifle in mid-air. Time seemed to slow down just for her; she was able to deftly dodge their shots and fire what seemed to be tranquilizers at the guards that surrounded her. As she ran out of bullets, she just picked up the gun of someone else and repeated. Each guard seemed to crumple instantly after a single hit, with even the fattest of the lot not even showing an ounce of resistance to the darts. Cathy was… flabbergasted that it was so easy, and dumbfounded when she found the keys to a truck on the pants of one of the thinner female guards. She had her way to freedom!

Taking the door used for guards moving in and out of what seemed to be a road for trucks, she realized that it was midday. The snow was falling on the ground, and Cathy felt scared to put her foot down into it. She realized, however, that some risks had to be taken. When she stepped on the snow, it didn’t even crunch under her toes. It didn’t feel cold or yield at all; it was solid and warm! The winter cold should have left her shivering, but she barely felt a difference between what should have been a balmy laboratory and a frigid winter chill. Despite this, she was barely aware of her surroundings, fighting a mental battle between her urges to return to the lab and to make everyone aware of what had been done. 

She took a shot at the closest truck to her and, miraculously… the keys worked on the first try! It unlocked without issue and Cathy was able to climb in without any resistance or issue. She couldn’t believe her luck today; armed with her knowledge of the building and of what they were doing, she set off for her news station to let the people know the truth. Adjusting the seat was an easy task; the position looked right for a tall, mildly overweight woman, but her frame and height meant she had to put the chair much closer to the wheel. The controls should have given her trouble, but she seemed to take to them without a hitch.

As she drove off, her mind was constantly attacked with visions of fatness. Cathy could barely keep herself from destroying the meridian and turning back to the lab but, as she got further and further away, that urge seemed to die, her grip on the wheel got tighter, her posture felt more confident, her body straightened, and her determination grew even greater. The ideas of fatness still nagged at her mind, but they were like the pain that had once eaten at the back of her neck: A dull ache, constantly present but not enough to cloud her judgment. 

Cathy Newhart had won. Take that, Phineas Spencer. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Now, don’t you see? The device worked wonders! This screen showed us everything our test patient’s mind dreamt up. This scheme, this… thought, her conceived notion of escaping, of uncovering these plans… it’s all for naught!” A man in a pinstripe suit jubilantly belted out, cackling at the futility of Cathy’s dream. The room he and a table of similarly-dressed doctors and government officials sat in had a vast wall of screens, all variously centered on different men and women whom they referred to as ‘patients’, set up with tubes and wires injected into various parts of their body to monitor their vital signs; prevent obvious ailments that could inhibit ‘the process’, as their organization clandestinely called it, from taking full effect, and to keep them sedated for as long as they needed to change them. While he had a confident grin, set starkly in his sharp-featured face, the other figures were less enthusiastic, even driven near to sleep with ennui. This man had to keep their attention and make sure that his invention would be worthwhile. “The chemicals are already working their magic. In her dreams, she was barely able to pull herself away from the prospect of fatness. Imagine how she’ll be even after a few days!”

“Now, Minister Cornelius, what was the point in showing us all this?” One doctor piped up, holding a manila envelope filled with various documents of patient information. His eyebrows were furled with a mixture of curiosity and frustration. “We’ve had this sort of technology for a while. This time frame is nothing new to any of us. What’s so different about this iteration?”

“This iteration, Dr. Ignatio,” Cornelius stated with a matter-of-fact tone, “This one is different from how it handles dream processing. Before, we were able to get an inside view into a patient’s unconscious and translate the brain waves into an audio and visual perspective. It was very useful for studying the day to day changes of a patient’s transformation into a productive member of our wonderful society. This one, however, can record the information in real-time, leading to the storage of unconscious memories!”

“The advancements are themselves novel; this, I can admit, Minister. Now, I propose the question I sent you in writing weeks ago again: how do you propose we use that?” Another individual, who sat at the other end of the table, smoking a cigar, asked without any enthusiasm in his voice. His smooth, bald head reflected the dull fluorescent lights, while his piercing blue eyes betrayed a fury at the audacity of the woman on the screen. “This is your last chance, Cornelius. If you can’t produce a reason to keep you on, we will be forced to let you go. There are certainly corporate avenues that might be interested in what you can bring with you, but I am unsure how the work you have done so far as Minister of Science would be beneficial to the Government’s causes.”

Cornelius’s neat grin seemed to falter, but his face still maintained a forced eagerness as he continued. “Propaganda, dear Chairman!”

The Chairman, nearly biting on his cigar in amusement, cocked a thick, bushy eyebrow up from the other side of the room. His fury and frustration dissolved; a bemused curiosity now rested in his stare. “Go on, Minister. You have piqued my interest.”

Cornelius, starting to chuckle, sweat dripping on his forehead and slowly ruining the slicked-back haircut that he maintained, started to go off-script. “For the first time, we’ve been able to record, in vivid detail, the dreams of individuals. We can fill the subjects with a cocktail of hormones that keep them in a state of complete bliss and record the unconscious outcomes of these experiments. If these experiments go well, we can… say, cherry-pick the finest cases and use them to give a more positive image of this treatment! We can go public with the treatment before any of the pesky media outlets figure out about what we’re doing, and we can doctor the footage to showcase a kind treatment of prisoners!” At the end of his manic spiel, Cornelius, his hair starting to unravel, started to draw in heavy breaths. He looked to the Chairman, who rose from his seat and applauded the Minister, leading the rest of the crowd, even those who had been asleep, to rise in fear of retribution and follow his lead. At that moment, Cornelius relaxed his shoulders, realizing that he saved his job with one speech.

“Bravo, Cornelius! I knew there was a reason we put so much faith in you. If you can find a similar use of your other projects, then you will have outdone yourself. I knew you could do it, my boy!” The Chairman gave a rare smile, his rotund face scrunching in a way uncharacteristic of his normally-grumpy visage. “Now, do you have the current feed of this test patient’s dreams? Has the Treatment started to take effect?”

“Yes, sir, it has!” Cornelius used the remote to move the screen’s focus towards her current dreams. "It will take time, as you are aware. The test subject, though, is moving along our expected trajectory, and she will be a wonderful example of the Second Phase of our Treatment."


End file.
